


Am I Talking Too Loud?

by duckbunny



Series: Camaraderie [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M, No Sex, Platonic BDSM, Play Fighting, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckbunny/pseuds/duckbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Laurens picked a fight with Lafayette, he's certain he was provoked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I Talking Too Loud?

This is not where Laurens intended to end up.

He's had too much energy, these last few days, and no way to burn it off. Sitting still and working was out of the question. Fidgeting and working was just about possible, but though he was up until nearly dawn all it bought him was uneasy dreams; this morning he was just as restless. For the last several hours he's been in this taproom, arguing about slavery. Mostly arguing alone, against the shifting succession of opponents who find the courage to defend the practice. They come and go; they don't have his conviction, just complacency.

This isn't his favourite place to drink, which truthfully is why he ended up here, not in the mood for arguing with people he actually likes. But apparently he's been here enough to be predictable. Before he quite manages to provoke the latest dolts into action, Lafayette has loomed up behind them and suggested very firmly that they allow him a _private word_ with his _friend._

“I was getting somewhere with those two,” Laurens says exasperatedly, and Lafayette stares at him, profoundly unmoved.

“Certainly you were. Another hour and they would have been quite deaf. Are you planning to irritate the British into surrender, too? Argue their swords away?”

Laurens slams his hand down onto the grubby table. “I am not afraid to fight!”

“Of course you're not. Of course. Especially in such honourable company.” Lafayette waves a lazy hand towards the crowded bar and smirks.

It's the smirk that does it. That elegant, contemptuous amusement at the antics of the colonials. Smug, French, aristocratic, arrogant - Laurens shoves himself away from the table. “I'll show you how damned scared I am,” he spits, squaring up to fight, but Lafayette does not wait for the formalities and an open-handed smack lands squarely on his ear.

It's humiliating. He throws himself at Lafayette but Lafayette is taller and has longer arms and it's not a fucking fair fight. He doesn't even get one good punch in before he's being manhandled out of the door with his arms pinned to his chest and Lafayette scornfully ignoring his attempts to kick backwards at his shins. The cold air outside is a shock to his skin. He wrenches one hand free and digs his nails into Lafayette's arm. The arm ends up across his throat but that puts it in reach of his teeth, so he bites, as hard as he can. Lafayette hisses something obscene in French, tries to shake him off, and Laurens feels so alive, fighting back with elbows and feet and every inch of leverage he's got to struggle with, until Lafayette changes tack and pushes back instead.

Laurens is only dimly aware that the rest of his body has gone slack. His head is trapped between Lafayette's chest and his muscled forearm, shoved hard into Laurens' mouth. For a moment the whole world is silent, until Lafayette laughs and drags him upright. He balances on his toes, panting helplessly while Lafayette handles him like a kitten, catching hold of his wrists and pulling his arm away only to grip hard at the back of his neck. He feels himself shaken.

“If you are going to fight, Laurens, you will have to get better at it.”

Laurens tries to nod, but the hand on his neck somehow makes it turn into a full-body shudder and he hears himself moan. He clamps down on the noise as soon as he hears it, praying that the matter will be dropped. Lafayette chuckles darkly, the sound prickling against his skin. “You will have to get much better at it. You will need to practice, Laurens, especially when you are so hot-headed as you are tonight. Otherwise you will get yourself into trouble.”

He sets Laurens down on his feet, waiting for him to find his balance before he lets go. “My rooms,” he says pointedly, “are always open to you, should you feel the desire to improve.”

  


  



End file.
